


A Festive Tale of Smooching, Santa Hats, and Kitten Stew

by lola381pce



Series: Imagine Clint Coulson Prompts [20]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Clint Barton, BAMF Phil Coulson, Clint worries about Phil's diet - Phil secretly loves that he does, Coulson Loses His Badass Mojo - A Christmas Tale of Woe, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Felix Blake admires Coulson's balls, Festive Smooching, ICC Holiday Special 2k17, Imagine ClintCoulson, Insecure Phil, M/M, Maria Hill strains an eyeball... maybe two, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Phil Needs a Hug, Phil thinks he's lost his mojo when a baby agent giggles at him... giggles!, Protective Clint Barton, Smooching, The WSC may or may not think Coulson's impressive - or maybe just a tumpshie, Tumblr: imagineclintcoulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12943068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: For the ICC Holiday Special 2k17, Day 6 prompt: You put a Santa hat on my head this morning and I thought I took it off but it turns out I didn’t so I’ve been walking around all day wearing a Santa hat. I hate you.





	A Festive Tale of Smooching, Santa Hats, and Kitten Stew

**Author's Note:**

> We are always accepting new prompts at our tumblr account, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.

“So, don’t work all day. Try to remember to eat; real food, not that protein bar shit. An’ be home by seven, I’m making festive kitten stew,” Clint instructed, leaning against the desk idly flicking the bobble on the end of the hat he’d pulled onto Phil’s head earlier while giving him a mid-morning smooch. It was Christmas. He was allowed. Kinda.

“Copy that,” Phil replied absently as he studied the results of the latest intake of new recruits that Fury had sent him. It didn’t make good reading. Not good at all. Suddenly he frowned… festive kitten stew? What the hell? He looked up at Clint’s grinning face.

“Wondered how long it would take you,” he laughed, wrinkling his nose.

Recruit results forgotten for a moment, Phil pushed his chair away from his desk and dragged Clint between his legs. He couldn’t resist that sexy-as-hell look on his husband.

“Jerk!” Phil told him, gently drawing his face down for a kiss. “I promise I will try to remember to eat something other than “protein bar shit”. And I will definitely be home by seven if only to find out what festive kitten stew tastes like. Now go and annoy the range master. Or Hill. Or someone other than me, or you won’t get to terrorise the latest batch of baby agents. You and Tasha… might have to take turns.”

It was Clint’s turn to frown. “That bad?” he asked, sympathetically.

Phil sighed and rested his forehead against Clint’s. “I can’t even…”

Clint kissed the tip of his nose. “Okay, boss. Just make sure you drink some water along with your coffee an’ get a sandwich at least. I’ll ask Francine to keep you something before I go.”

He leaned in to kiss Phil on the lips again and smirked against his mouth as he felt his husband’s hands give a firm squeeze to the meat of his ass.

“Fusspot,” Phil murmured fondly, nuzzling at the soft skin just below Clint’s ear. Between that and Phil kneading his buttocks, Clint felt his cock begin to stir and take interest in the proceedings. He pulled back and removed Phil’s hands making him pout.

“‘nough of that, Senior Agent Coulson. You keep those wandering hands to yourself until you get home. You got work to do an’ I got folks to annoy.”

Phil snorted out a quiet laugh and turned back to his computer, reluctantly letting Clint go.

As he opened the door to leave Clint called over his shoulder, “An’ take that hat off before you go anywhere.”

The distracted grunt in response didn’t fill Clint with confidence but he let it slide. He’d been too much of a worrier already. Besides, there was no way Phillip J Coulson would walk around all day wearing a bright red Santa hat with a huge, fluffy bobble.

***

Phil threw himself down on the couch and huffed out the biggest, longest, most dejected sigh Clint had ever heard him make. Must have been a shittier day than he thought it would be.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked dropping onto the couch beside him. His voice and face full of concern as he nudged Phil’s shoulder with his own.

Phil stared in front of him looking as though he’d been t-boned by a semi. “You put a Santa hat on my head this morning and I thought I took it off but it turns out I didn’t so I’ve been walking around all day… wearing a Santa hat. I kinda hate you.”

Clint bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. Oh yeah. That.

“Don’t even go there,” Phil warned him. “It’s not funny.”

Clint bit his lip harder. Actually, it was. It was fucking hysterical. But Clint wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

“You didn’t see it. It was awful,” Phil said sadly. “My reputation as a competent senior agent has just taken a nosedive. It’s going to take me years to build it back up again.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clint asked, trying to keep a straight face. He was genuinely concerned by Phil’s woebegone expression which was as sweet as it was funny under the circumstances.

“What’s there to talk about? For once I did as you told me and headed down to the canteen to get a sandwich. I met Hill in the elevator.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“With auditors from the World Security Council.”

“Oh!”

“She introduced me as one of SHIELD’s most senior and experienced agents. Someone they could depend on in a crisis situation. Someone they could trust to get the job done discreetly and without making a spectacle.”

“Well, that was… nice?” Clint told him somewhat doubtfully. He couldn’t help feeling there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But… I don’t think they believed her. And I don’t think the way they were staring at me was because they were impressed. I think it was the hat. Hill was glaring at me so hard she probably strained an eyeball. Maybe both. Perhaps if she’d pointed to my head instead of drawing her finger across her throat I might have cottoned on but that just left me wondering what I’d done. It was also kinda hurtful.”

“Huh!”

“On the way back up, I met Blake. He stared at me for a while then said, ‘You know, there are times when even  _I_  admire your balls, Coulson. I guess today’s one of those times.’ The elevator stopped at his floor and he got off before I could ask what he meant.”

“And in between?”

Phil sighed. “New recruits in the canteen.”

“Ah!”

“There was no fear. No quaking in their boots when I walked past. I think one of them might even have giggled. Giggled! My badass mojo’s been busted, Clint. By a Santa hat.”

Clint really wanted to laugh himself but Phil looked so dejected he chewed on his lip to keep it from breaking free. Instead, he reached for his cell phone.

“I don’t believe it’s as bad as you think.”

He opened a video file sent to him earlier that afternoon courtesy of Jasper Sitwell (who else) and held it up for Phil to see. He groaned and closed his eyes as the content became apparent but Clint nudged him and made him watch.

The footage seemed to have been taken moments after Phil entered the canteen. It clearly showed him wearing his Santa hat at a jaunty angle as he strode past a gaggle of open-mouthed recruits sitting at a table, one of whom did indeed start to giggle. As the cell phone camera followed Coulson’s journey to the counter for his sandwich, the mic also picked up the conversation at the recruits’ table.

 

_> Shhh! That’s Senior Agent Coulson. He’s badass._

_> > How badass can he be? He’s wearing a Santa hat?_

_> So badass he’s just walked into a crowded canteen full of SHIELD agents, senior agents, and the Director himself wearing a fucking Santa hat. Think about it, dickhead!_

_> > Fuuuuck!_

 

“Better?” Clint asked when the footage stopped seconds later.

Phil ducked his head and gave him a sideways glance. There was a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Little bit,” he admitted. He didn’t give a toss about the WSC but his badass rep with baby (and not so baby) agents meant a lot.

“And you don’t hate me anymore?”

Phil leaned in to give him a tender kiss as an apology which Clint happily responded to.

“Never did,” he whispered against Clint’s mouth. “Just being a drama queen.”

“Or a badasshat,” Clint told him with a smirk. Phil groaned and let his head fall back against the cushions. He was usually the one for awful puns.

Laughing, Clint stood and held out his hand to pull Phil up from the couch. “C’mon. Time for dinner.”

Phil raised his eyebrow as he accepted the helping hand grunting while he got to his feet. “Festive kitten stew?” he asked.

“Nah. Had to settle for beef,” Clint deadpanned. “Couldn’t find the right type of kittens.”

“There’s a right type?”

Clint was mock-aghast. at the question “Course there is! What kind of uncultured carni do you take me for?

“Yeah… cuz  _that’s_  what I was thinking!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: No kittens were harmed, cooked or eaten in this festive tale! Clint and Coulson would *never* eat a kitten - blow raspberries on its little belly, nose and toe beans but never have it for dinner.


End file.
